"And that's the end of the first half!"
"Currently, AC Milan leads Inter Milan 2-1 away from home!"
"In this match, Inter Milan drew first blood, but Suker's two goals completely turned the game around!"
"In a match full of stars, it's the Croatian Suker who has shined the brightest!"
Inside Inter Milan's locker room.
With the team trailing, everyone appeared visibly anxious.
"There's still time in the second half. Let Adriano charge forward a few more times!"
Zanetti shouted to his teammates.
Head coach Mancini agreed with the suggestion.
Right now, Adriano was Inter's only real hope of a comeback.
They hoped Adriano could channel his peak form.
But these days, following his father's death, Adriano had been numbing himself with alcohol and women. His form was far from ideal.
He had clearly put on weight, and his stamina wasn't what it used to be.
"I've got 20 minutes left in me!" Adriano declared.
The expressions on Inter's players grew even more grim.
They had just 20 minutes—and they had to score in that time!
On the other side, Suker stood up and shouted, "I can go another 45 minutes!"
"Coach! Look at me!" Suker squatted, jumped, and bounced around, afraid Ancelotti might sub him off again.
I've got unlimited stamina!
The AC Milan players laughed watching him.
"Relax, we won't sub you off this game. Sit down and take a break," Ancelotti reassured him.
Everyone else also smiled.
Truthfully, AC Milan had started to rely heavily on Suker.
At the very least, much of their offense depended on him to initiate.
Pirlo, Kaká, and Seedorf were all outstanding players.
But none of them had Suker's efficiency at converting chances into goals.
Suker plopped back onto the bench.
"Got it!"
Finally, Ancelotti called out, "Kaká! Costacurta! Start warming up!"
In the second half, the teams switched sides.
Inter Milan launched into aggressive offense immediately.
They targeted Maldini relentlessly.
They were clearly exploiting their old captain's declining stamina.
Maldini was visibly fatigued.
Despite his fighting spirit and commitment in every challenge,
His footwork was beginning to falter.
For AC Milan fans, this was a heartbreaking sight.
Watching their once glorious, dominant captain being used as a weak spot and constantly targeted brought frustration and helplessness. All they could do was sigh at the cruelty of time.
Suker noticed it too. He was about to drop back to help Maldini defend and ease some pressure.
Just then, Kaká and Costacurta stood on the sidelines, ready to be subbed in.
"Kick it out! Force a dead ball!" Suker yelled.
Pirlo was just about to kick the ball out when suddenly—
Cambiasso darted in from the side and poked the ball away!
AC Milan lost possession in their own half—an extremely dangerous situation.
Cambiasso sent a through ball to Adriano.
Adriano, with his back to goal, turned and cut in. Using his immense physical strength, he muscled through Nesta and Stam.
Faced with an onrushing Dida, Adriano curled the ball past him with the outside of his foot.
The ball arced over the keeper and into the right side of the net.
57th minute. A moment of carelessness from AC Milan, and Inter equalized.
"Adriano! What a display of individual brilliance!"
"AC Milan has Suker, but Inter has Adriano!"
"Facing the rising challenge of young Suker, Adriano answers back with sheer individual talent!"
"Inter Milan 2:2 AC Milan – It's all square again!"
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—
Inter Milan fans erupted into deafening cheers.
They finally saw a chance to knock AC Milan off their pedestal.
No longer were they simply getting beaten—they were fighting back. That equalizing goal boosted their morale sky-high.
Meanwhile, AC Milan made their substitutions.
Shevchenko and Maldini came off.
Kaká and Costacurta entered the field.
Both Shevchenko and Maldini were exhausted.
Sheva, as the lone striker, had been battling defenders non-stop. Though he didn't score, he created numerous chances.
Maldini had taken relentless punishment on the left flank. The old captain's stamina had been nearly drained.
As the substitution happened, Ancelotti called Suker over.
"You're playing center forward now!"
Suker's eyes lit up at the words.
"Your main task is to distribute the ball to both wings. Kaká and Seedorf will push forward when you drop deep. Look for passing chances. If you see an opening, go for it yourself."
Ancelotti's tactical instruction was casual—but it fit Suker perfectly.
"Don't worry, Coach!" Suker thumped his chest. "Leave it to me!"
Just as he turned to head back—
Maldini called him over.
Maldini took off his captain's armband.
"Give this to Costacurta—I forgot to earlier."
Suker stared longingly at the armband.
Maldini hesitated, then handed it over.
Suker grinned and ran off happily.
Maldini, watching him trot away, suddenly had a bad feeling.
Suker toyed with the white armband.
It had the AC Milan crest on one side and a big 'C'—for Captain—on the other.
It was elastic, easy to slip on.
After fiddling with it for a bit, Suker slipped it on his left arm.
Maldini saw it all from the bench.
He immediately slapped his forehead.
He had known something felt off!
Suker had been eyeing that captain's armband for a long time! He should never have given it to him!
Now Suker strutted onto the field, wearing the armband, shouting:
"Everyone get your heads in the game! I'll kill anyone who slacks off!"
"Gattuso!"
Gattuso turned around with a menacing glare—then froze when he saw the armband.
"What the hell?!"
"Stay back and guard the rear! Quit pushing so far forward!"
Suker then copied Maldini's signature calming gesture—both hands pressing down.
"Keep it steady! Stay composed! Got it?!"
AC Milan players looked at each other in confusion.
What's going on?
Why is the captain's armband on Suker's arm?
What does this mean?
Has Maldini lost his mind?
Even commentator Aldo Serena was stunned:
"Maldini handed the captain's armband to Suker? My God—is this real? If it is, Suker would be the youngest captain in Milan's history! Previously, in the 1982–83 season, Garresi held that record at 22 years old. Suker is only 19!"
Nesta smirked. "That little brat…"
He turned to Costacurta. "Aren't you going to take it back?"
Costacurta scratched his head, smiled, and said, "Forget it. Let him have it."
Nesta rolled his eyes. "You're all spoiling him!"
Costacurta chuckled and said nothing.
Back in the commentary booth, Aldo Serena was still raving.
Then the camera cut to Maldini on the bench.
The veteran was holding his head in his hands, brows furrowed deeply. His expression was a perfect meme-worthy face of regret.
Seeing this, Serena exclaimed, "What on earth is going on?!"
On the pitch, Kaká walked over and said softly:
"You better score again, finish the hat-trick, and win this match. Otherwise, you'll get killed."
Suker grinned, slapped the armband proudly, and said, "Just watch!"
The game resumed.
After the substitutions and Suker's antics, AC Milan's gloom from conceding had vanished.
Now wearing the captain's armband, Suker moved to the tip of the attack.
With greater authority came greater responsibility.
Suker wasn't just wearing the armband for fun—he was gunning for a hat-trick.
As center forward, he positioned himself just off the defenders.
But unlike the elusive Inzaghi, Suker frequently dropped deep to receive the ball.
He'd either spread it wide or look to dribble himself.
A few times, he even dropped back near the halfway line.
With that much space to cover, Samuel and Córdoba didn't dare follow him too far.
If they did, Kaká and Seedorf would exploit the space behind instantly—and with Pirlo's pinpoint passing, that would be dangerous.
So Suker ended up completely unmarked at times.
He sprinted up and down the pitch, even mixing in sudden bursts forward.
He wasn't Inzaghi—he had elite speed and explosiveness.
And both defenders were already on yellow cards!
Trying to defend Suker now?
It was pure torture!